I had never thought of Fozzie that way, but my son had a point. Fozzie is not good at taking social cues; he doesn’t read a room well and he tends to monologue and perseverate (to repeat himself long after the need has passed). He interprets figurative language as literal — remember that fork in the road in “The Muppet Movie?” He has a verbal tic he falls back on, “wokka-wokka.” And he hates to be separated from his hat for no obvious reason.

I’ve tested this theory on friends and have seen the light bulb of recognition go off every time. Of course Fozzie has autism! One friend, a mother whose son is also on the spectrum even told me her family had the exact same conversation.

Sesame Street hopes children will identify with their new character Julia, described as a “friend who has autism,” and appearing, for now, only in the book “We’re Amazing 1-2-3!” There is no question, the mere presence of Julia is a positive development. But she also introduces a rarely discussed complication of autism. Let’s call it the Fozzie Conundrum.

I’m particularly sensitive to the Fozzie Conundrum now that my son attends regular honors classes in a regular public high school. Naturally sociable and charismatic — and with eight years of support and interventions from a team of terrific teachers and therapists at specialized schools — he can easily “pass” as a regular, funny, quirky teenager.

Just like a certain joke-cracking bear. We’ve known Fozzie for years and never needed anyone to explain away his eccentricities. In fact, we’ve loved his quirks and have never seen him as anything but Fozzie.

Would knowing Fozzie had autism have changed the way we looked at him? Maybe. Would knowing Fozzie had autism have made it easier for his parents and friends to understand his behaviors as he grew into himself? Also maybe.

And that is the struggle parents of children on the higher-functioning end of the spectrum face. When I first received my son’s autism diagnosis, it felt like a life sentence. But I quickly learned that the diagnosis was actually a lifeline, a classification that brought with it access to much needed services and an explanation for a set of behaviors and characteristics that made parenting and educating him a unique challenge.

But as my son has grown up, it’s become impossible to ignore the flip side of the autism label. Along with family members, teachers, therapists, friends and neighbors, I worked hard to promote my son’s self-confidence and sense of belonging, focusing less on his weaknesses and more on his strengths. Different didn’t mean worse or better, just different.

As children with autism develop into teenagers and young adults — maybe not at the same pace or in the same sequence as their neurotypical peers — they want to be seen for who they are, not for what a label says about them.

In our conversation about Fozzie, my son eventually conceded that yeah, an autistic character on “Sesame Street” may not be a bad thing. “I mean, Fozzie’s a Muppet, but he isn’t on ‘Sesame Street,’” he said. “Maybe this new character will help little kids understand. As long as they don’t make her a stereotype.”

Just like the diagnosis, which was at once a label and a lifeline, my son understood that the portrayal could cut both ways. It’s all in the execution.

“And what would that stereotypical autistic kid be like?” I asked.

“You know, she’d have a speech impediment and be really into trains,” he said. “Not just really into trains, but able to name every part of a caboose.”

He was right. Who wants to be caricatured like that?

And therein lies the conundrum. “Autistic” may not be the first descriptor that comes to mind when you think of Fozzie Bear. You would probably describe him as funny, loyal, lovable and tenacious before you would describe him as autistic. And that is exactly what children want, whether they are on the spectrum or not. When labels can serve children without defining them, they leave room for every child, and every Muppet, to be exactly who they are.

About

We're all living the family dynamic, as parents, as children, as siblings, uncles and aunts. At Motherlode, lead writer and editor KJ Dell’Antonia invites contributors and commenters to explore how our families affect our lives, and how the news affects our families—and all families. Join us to talk about education, child care, mealtime, sports, technology, the work-family balance and much more